Ever Thine Ever Mine Ever Hers
by Auttzthoughtz
Summary: On The First Day of Christmas. Sherlock and John go to their daughter's Christmas recital. Fluff ensues. Happy Christmas for the whole loving family and friends. Part One of my 12 Days of Christmas Series.


"It's a bloody recital, Sherlock, a recital," John says, arguing for the fiftieth time this month over Sherlock's non-willingness to attend their daughter Anya's recital.

They had luck with finding their old friend, Irene, to surrogate a child for them. Many would insist that it was Sherlock's little girl due to her facial structure, but her blonde hair and overall structure screamed that she was John's in Sherlock's eyes. It didn't inhibit his love for the little girl – it only made him love her more.

She was ordinary in a more ordinary way, but she also had the aspects of both of her biological parents that intrigued Sherlock. He cared for her as much as he could, but only so much warmth could come in a Holmes towards parenting a child – considering he's never really remembered or seen what real warmth is towards a child other than through their friends.

Even as he loved the girl, she drove him crazy. She threw out his experiments because in her words "icky body parts don't belong next to my lunch." John laughs it off every time, but Sherlock walks away and throws a silent fit to himself in the bedroom.

Sherlock had been taking more cases. Their little girl had been spending more and more time being babysat by Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, or even Mycroft. Because where the older Holmes brother lacked in affection for his brother he made up for in positively spoiling Anya Holmes-Watson with everything at his disposal.

"I don't see the point – it's just a bunch of children and I could just have her dance about to whatever song she wants to at home with the same effect minus all the other potentially dull students," Sherlock replies as he looks into the microscope.

John walks forward and puts his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, leaning down to Sherlock's ear to whisper. "She'll be home in twenty minutes and I am taking her. Everyone else is coming, even Anderson. This is an important night for her and she really wants you to be there. For your daughter, Sherlock, please put on your fake smile and charm these people and then we will come home and we can both leave you alone with your experiments.

Sherlock begrudgingly agrees, his frustration melting away from his outer features as Anya runs up the steps and runs up to hug Sherlock's legs. "I know you don't like these sorts of things Papa, but Father said you'd agree and you did – thank you."

Sherlock smiles a little more genuinely as he strokes a hand through her blonde curls once as she pulls away. "Anything for you," he mumbles, knowing on some level he means it.

It's merely a half an hour before they are all situating in uncomfortable and flimsy plastic chairs, as the complaints from the Holmes men had been heard by everyone around while John and Molly were backstage helping Anya prepare for her performance. When they came down for their seats, Sherlock knew it was time for the show to truly begin.

There were a few tone deaf children that came before her act, and Sherlock had to muster up all the power within him not to shout at them like he did at the telly. John's hand clasping his tightly did help in the slightest to keep his strength up. John leans up to whisper in Sherlock's ear. "She's after this one. She's going to outshine each one of these children."

"You may just think that under the illusionary method that you are her parent, air-go she will always be the best in your eyes," Sherlock whispers back.

"Oh, shush, here she comes onto the stage," John says, pointing Sherlock's direction towards the stage. They all clapped and cheered for her as she brought up her instrument case.

Anya puts her hands in a slicing motion, letting them all know to be silent. John had to laugh and gave a squeeze to Sherlock's hand. She was really Sherlock's daughter too.

Anya reaches into her instrument case and Sherlock is trying not to fall to shock. It's the most exquisite thing he's seen in a long time – a child's dark-wood violin, perfectly crafted. No doubt a gift from Mycroft – but that wasn't of mind when she began to play. She demanded silence as she played her own orchestrated set, mixing sounds that would be appropriate for Christmas carols with things that could be considered appropriate for films of all sorts. When she concluded her performance, she curtseyed, pulling the sides of her purple dress.

Sherlock was the first one out of his chair to give her a standing ovation, clapping and cheering louder than the others. John stood beside him, never feeling so truly sure about their family together as he did in that moment. Anya's eyes glittered with the ghosts of tears as she saw everyone there for her, and she did an extra twirled jump before packing up her things and heading off of the stage.

Sherlock looks over at John and smiles brightly. "How come you never told me?"

"She wanted to surprise you," John replies softly, leaning up to capture Sherlock's lips in a tender kiss before pulling his hand to have them sit down, both of them spending the rest of the performance peacefully together.

Once Sherlock was allowed backstage, he was practically sprinting, waiting for Anya to pull her into a big hug. When he let go, Sherlock looked down at her with a smile. "You have a wonderful talent for violin."

"I was thinking," Anya says, rolling a few times on the balls of your feet. "I could still learn more. I wanted to surprise you for the first performance, Papa. But I was wondering if you could try and teach me past what I know so far."

"I would love to," Sherlock says softly, putting his hand forward and ruffling her a hair a bit. "How do you feel – first big performance and all?"

"I feel," Anya's face scrunches up, as if she was searching for words. "I'm hungry."

"I'm Papa, nice to meet you," Sherlock says with a smile. Anya just laughs a bit, waiting for her papa to amend the statement. "Are we the ones taking you for dinner – or did you have other plans?"

"I wanted to go with Mama tonight," Anya says slowly. They had tried to explain to her a bit on how she was born, after that 'Aunt Irene' went out the window in favor of 'Mama' whether any of them liked it or not. "She doesn't come to town often, and she came tonight to see me. Can I stay with her a few days?"

Sherlock smiles brightly. "I guess winter holiday from school has just begun – so as long as it's okay with her and your Father."

"What about me, then?" John asks as he approaches in slow steps.

Anya runs up to jump into John's arms, a half-hug and half-lazy gesture on her behalf. "I was just asking if I could stay with Mama for a few days."

"I suppose that could be fine," John says before he kisses his daughter on the forehead. "As long as you are back for Christmas, that would be fine. Don't forget to greet your crowd of adoring fans before you go then, promise?"

"I promise," Anya says with a giggle as John lets her down. "Papa agreed to lessons! I am going to be just as good as him some day," Anya exclaims before she runs past the curtain to the rest of the people that love her, noting that Mycroft was the first to show affection – it's reserved for his niece predominately, as they've discovered. The only other person in his life to now recently get that much attention is his new husband, and Lestrade still finds every day a new lovely surprise.

John turns to Sherlock. "How do you feel?"

"Exhilarated," Sherlock replies as continually stares at the curtain their daughter just ran through. "She's going to surpass me soon on the violin. I just," Sherlock looks back to John, a wide grin on his face. "We've made something brilliant, haven't we?"

John feels like he might cry. Sherlock hadn't ever said it like that. Sure it was their child, and sure they raised it together. Sherlock always had felt this distinctive need to disengage himself from it all – saying that it was John's child and he was merely helping with the upbringing. To hear him say those words was a more precious Christmas gift John could have ever thought to ask for. "Yes, we have."

Sherlock steps forward and leans down to kiss John softly, purely passionate. When he pulls away, he raises his hand to wipe tears off of John's cheek. "Why are you crying?"

"Everything's just brilliant, it's happy tears," John says with a bright smile. "I guess we don't have her till Christmas Eve then – if Irene agrees."

"Irene agrees," Irene says with a huge grin, having left Anya with the other adults for a bit. "I wouldn't miss a chance like that with her. And the two of you, take advantage of the days you have in privacy. Perhaps John could take off some work," Irene concludes with a wink. "Oh, and don't forget you still have that riding crop."

Sherlock flushes. "I, um," Sherlock can't even form words.

"You still have that thing?" John asks with the raise of an eyebrow. Sherlock nods sheepishly. "Merry Christmas to me, we're going home," John says with a bright grin. He doesn't miss the gleam of joy in Sherlock's eyes – they never do things like this anymore, ever. John drags him out by the hand and they explore glee, for it's the Christmas season in 221b.

**Author's Note: Happy Christmas! This year I am doing something special. I am giving fics for the Twelve days of Christmas. In honor of, yes, the BBC holidays and the specials that are coming I am doing an EXUBERANT amount of fandom this CHRISTMAS SEASON. On the first day of Christmas, I gift to you Sherlock and John in domestic happiness. Others will be in other ratings, and under marked in descriptions by day. Fandoms will include: Supernatural, Merlin, Sherlock, Doctor Who (Yeah, I am going to try that for the first time ever), Harry Potter, Avengers, Mortal Instruments, Hunger Games, and Les Miserables. If by some miracle I complete this, we shall call it the Holiday Miracle and I will CRY. [I am open to other options because I still have some days of Christmas to fill, but if I stick with these fandoms I will write multiples for some!]**


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